


'Tis Just a Flesh Wound

by AppalachianApologies



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: A LOT of Angst, ALL THE PTSD, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Whump, Emotionally Repressed, Everything is Repressed in this Household, Flashbacks, Gen, I'm Sorry, Malcolm Bright Almost Gets a Hug, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright Whump, Malcolm Bright is a Mess, Memories, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Repressed Memories, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, hell yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25412308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppalachianApologies/pseuds/AppalachianApologies
Summary: Everything could've gone wrong when there's a sudden firefight in the middle of the forest. Instead, everyone comes out unscathed, save for a little splinter.At least, that's what they thought.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	'Tis Just a Flesh Wound

**Author's Note:**

> ((I am very proud of that summary lmao))
> 
> Okay! Hi! The first 600 words or so in this were written from Jameena's prompt, "Nick" in the Prodigal Whump Discord server, but I liked it, so I decided to expand on it.

A Forest, of all places, is not somewhere Malcolm wants to be.

Other than the obvious past...  _ troubles _ that occurred in the forest, three piece suits and dress shoes don’t bode well with soggy leaves and sharp sticks. Malcolm can’t gain any traction with the piles of leaves and hidden rocks, which is quite unfortunate given the sudden forest firefight.

Which is how Malcolm finds himself crouching behind a tree, bullets sending tiny shards of tree bark and wood around him. His heart is hammering in his chest, but his hands stay suspiciously steady. 

After all, The Surgeon never used semi-automatic weapons.

Gil and Dani are to his left, using their own respective trees to hide behind for cover, and JT is doing the same on his left.

The three of them wait for a pause, before firing before sending their own capsules of packed metal toward the serial killer. Malcolm, on the other hand, doesn’t have any weapon and is forced to stay cowering.

“Shit!” He hears JT shout, pressing his back against the tree once again.

“JT?” Gil shouts back, sending a worried glance toward him.

“It’s fine, all good! Just got nicked by an overeager splinter,” He adds, voice coming back down to a normal volume.

The killer gives a maniacal laugh, and while Malcolm evaluates the laugh into his growing profile, Gil gets a clean shot.

Unlike the NYPD team, their killer has no bullet proof vest, which results in him tumbling down a fraction of a second later, precious blood seeping out.

Malcolm’s the first to move from his cover, despite Gil’s curses, and slides down to a crouch next to JT.

“Good?” The profiler asks, scanning him for any injuries.

JT nods, and motions to the side of his jacket, “Told ya, just a nick. Barely got past my jacket.”

To confirm, Malcolm’s hand skims over the jacket, and-

_ Large hands over his smooth fragile ones. _

_ A puffy jacket does nothing to stop- _

_ Large hands over his- _

_ “My boy,” _

_ His hands are tiny and smooth. _

_ The jacket is no match against the scalpel. _

_ Hands press down- _

_ Large hands over his smooth- _

_ “Malcolm, my boy-” _

_ The pressure changes when they get past the jacket _

_ Large hands _

_ Small hands _

_ “My boy,” _

A new hand puts pressure on his shoulder, and Malcolm jerks back. Through heaving breaths he chokes out a “Wha’?”

“Bright, Bright? You with us?”

Blue eyes flicker between the three pairs of brown, until Gil squeezes his shoulder.

“Bright?”

“I’m good. I’m good.” He reiterates, and it’s clear no one in the vicinity believes him. He swallows and looks down again. “JT’s good?”

JT’s already at his feet when he answers, “Yeah man, I’m fine. Barely a scratch. Just startled me. You sure  _ you’re  _ good?”

Malcolm gives a curt nod. “Never better.”

“Bright-” Gil starts, but is quickly cut off by his radio. He sneaks his kid a glance that says, “this isn’t over,” and then takes a few steps away to answer the questioning radio.

Dani waits until Gil is a few meters away, before she pulls JT and Malcolm up to standing with a hand. Malcolm dusts off his suit, but it’s clear that he’s only doing it to have something to do with his hands, not that he actually cares if it's dirty.

She starts, “So Bright-”

“I’m fine.” The profiler interrupts her, shining a manic smile in her direction.

“Hey man,” JT begins, “‘S totally okay to not be fine. You completely spaced out there. You sure you’re okay?”

Covering his tremor with his left hand, Malcolm nods. “I’m sure.”

Unfortunately for him, Gil comes back at that moment and is having none of it. “Bright, what the hell happened?”

Malcolm stammers out a half-assed response, but it’s clear that Gil won’t be leaving it alone until he tells the truth. Finally, Malcolm takes a deep breath and begins his detached recollection of the events, but not without sneaking a glance to Dani first. She slowly nods, urging him.

“When I was ten, The Surgeon took me on a camping trip.”

Gil raises his eyebrows, “And I’m sure the woods looked a lot like these?”

Malcolm nods. “Yes, but, that’s not all. I, I think there was someone else there.”

“Who?” Dani presses.

“I don’t know!” He hisses out before taking another breath. “I remember he was trying to teach me something, I don’t know what. But I think,” He pauses to swallow, “I think he took one of his victims with us.”

JT shakes his head while muttering, “Jesus.”

He starts up again, determined to finish what he started, “And Dr. Whitly took his tools, he,” Malcolm swallows again, and hides his shaking hands in his pockets before continuing, “He, um, he put his hands over mine, over the scalpel,”

_ “Ninety degree angle to the skin, my boy,” _

“Bright?” Malcolm doesn’t know who’s calling his name, and he has no wish to find out either.

Instead, the profiler holds his hands in front of him before stumbling backwards, “Gil, Gil, I can’t,”

Firm hands grip his shoulder and Malcolm jerks back, instinctively swatting away the hand. “No!” 

“Bright!”

With unfocused eyes, Bright looks around him to find his three friends giving him concerned looks. Gil is directly in front of him, eyes wide with fear.

“Bright, Bright,” He soothes, “Hey kid, just look at me, yeah? Focus on me?” Malcolm feels hands lightly grasp his shoulders, but this time he leans into it. “That’s it, just focus on me. Take some deep breaths, kid.”

“Gil,” Malcolm starts, but doesn’t know where he’s going with the rest of it. He settles for just mentioning his name a few more times, attempting to convey an emotion he doesn’t even know.

The older man rubs a comforting hand on his neck and asks, “You with us?”

Nodding, Malcolm answers, “With you. I’m with you.” When he looks past Gil’s shoulder he finds Dani and JT standing awkwardly behind, lost as to how to help.

“Gil, what if  _ I _ -”

“Nope,” Gil cuts him off before he can even finish voicing his concern. “Whatever happened out there was The Surgeon’s fault, you hear me? His guilt, not yours.”

Despite his best efforts, Malcolm shakes his head. “But I don’t even know what happened, Gil-”

“And you don’t need to know what happened. It’s eating you up inside, Bright,”

“Gil I  _ have _ to know,” Malcolm presses, shaking off the man’s touch.

Gil is adamant when he responds, “No, kid. Knowing this could cause you serious damage, be smart about it!”

“But he could have another victim! It’s my duty, it’s my job to know!”

The lieutenant scoffs. “You were ten, Bright! Your job wasn’t to deal with your serial killer father! If anything, it was my job,”

“Gil, no-”

“Bright.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, “If it wasn’t my job, then it certainly wasn’t yous. Please, for once in your life, let it go, before it kills you.” He begs, eyes heavy with worry.

Malcolm bites his lip and concedes, “Okay. I’ll- I’ll stop digging.”

“You lying to me?”

“No. I promise. I won’t go after it, okay? I won’t chase the memory. Happy?” He knows Gil doesn’t deserve this bite, but he can’t stop it from coming out.

Although he still doesn’t seem convinced, Gil nods. He then turns to the rest of his team and announces, “Local sheriffs can handle it from here, we need to get back to the precinct.” He takes Malcolm’s shoulder to lead him back to the Le Mans, stealing uneasy glances the short way there.

It doesn’t matter though, because Malcolm’s not going to break his promise. 

He won’t go chasing after the memory.

...But if he happens to pull out an old scalpel and hold it over a jacket, well, at that point, the memory would just be coming to him.

What a coincidence.

Funny how those things work, isn’t it?

**Author's Note:**

> (dun dun dun!!)
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts about it!
> 
> Another thanks to everyone over at the Prodigal Whump Discord server, I love you all *blows kiss*


End file.
